Epicenter
by Iris Johanne Black
Summary: The hardest part about war is picking up the fragments left behind.
1. Through and Through

**A/N:** Title for fic subject to change. I've been on a Mass Effect kick for a solid month now, playing through all three games consecutively (obsessively) and now have a few plot bunnies to nurse. Hm, what else...I love reviews?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the world of Mass Effect. Sad day.

Through and Through

The Normandy airlock slid open to reveal the desolate wasteland that was once the Citadel. What was once a beautiful metropolis now reeked of decaying flesh, which became increasingly pungent the lower the Normandy hovered to the ground. It retained none of the brilliance that once earned it its fame. Like a picture without color, it had deteriorated into a gray mass of desolation and hopelessness. Even the Normandy lost its luster in this bleak alternate reality.

A cloud of dust kicked up in protest to the Normandy's descent, shrouding the pair of searchers in a dense blanket. There was between them a tense silence: any of Liara's inquiries about his mental health Garrus would deflect with a brief statement of his worry but nothing more. He was fine, he reassured her. Yet the truth of the matter came down to he _was_ worried; worried that they wouldn't be able to at least locate Shepard's body, worried as to what sort of condition it would be in if they did find it, – what if it was unrecognizable except for the signature dog tags? – worried that they would find her alive but in too much pain, too far gone for any doctor to heal her. So yeah, he was fraught with concern, dread even. But his overwhelming sense of loss that Liara and the others expressed so much concern over could come later. Right now they needed to focus on finding their Commander.

And they _would_ find her.

His conviction renewed, Garrus leapt from the Normandy, plummeted into the shroud of dust that willingly consumed him, and landed with a soft thump on what remained of the Citadel's tiled pathway. Another thud and a small grunt told him Liara landed not too far from him, but she was as invisible to him now as he was to her. Her muffled voice penetrated the silence.

"We'll let you know if we locate her, Joker."

"You mean _when _we locate her," Garrus corrected.

He started ahead of Liara as he spoke, eager to overturn every city transport car, scour every vacant building regardless of the hazardous possibility of collapse, plunge through every cavernous crater until he found Shepard. No more "what ifs." They were here _now_, searching for her _now_, and he'd be damned if they didn't find her. He just needed to remember that as he placed one foot in front of the other. They did this for her, not him.

"When we locate her," Liara amended. "Keep us posted on the others' progress, Joker, and let us know if they find any clues."

"Sure thing, Liara. I'm also going to circle around the Citadel to get a better vantage point from the air. I'll update your navpoints as soon as I hear or see anything. Also, Cortez is prepping the 'new and improved Kodiak'," Joker paused so that the two could picture his air quotes before he finished his thought, "so he can circle around in the lower atmosphere. I swear the thing is going to implode from its own mass effect drive. What with it being a cheap knock-off the original bought from the black market."

Static echoed over the channel as Joker waited for some sort of rebuttal from Garrus, but the turian delivered only brooding silence. They all had their ways of coping with the sacrifices incurred upon each of them: for Joker humor was a default, however grim and truthful the situation was, but Garrus' private thoughts were the only coping mechanism he owned.

"I am sure Lieutenant Cortez will be fine. After all he spent the entire week-long ride modifying the Kodiak to ensure safe flight. He was preparing for this mission," Liara said to break the dreadful quiet.

"Yeah," Joker replied in a rare tone of solemnity. Another pause before he muttered, "Bring her home."

"We will, Joker."

Just like that the air swallowed Liara's and Joker's voices, returning everything once more to the vacuum of silence. Garrus cleared the settling dust just in time to watch the Normandy vanish off into the distance, leaving a blue streak searing the air in its wake. Then he and Liara were alone amidst this miserable monument to the lives lost, one of three teams dropped off to locate Commander Shepard's remains. A tech and a biotic. He could feel Liara's gaze on him as his mandibles naturally flexed from the culmination of worry, stress, uncertainty, and other emotions he bottled up and used as his reserve of adrenaline. Thankfully, she didn't inquire.

They covered considerable ground, arched outward in opposite directions to gain more distance. It was the time he spent alone that Garrus felt his disconsolate thoughts pluck his inner heart-strings. He didn't have to hold his head high for the others when he was alone; he didn't have to hide the wear and tear that searching for his mate induced; he didn't have to remain strong for anyone but Shepard. At one point he smashed a fist into an already crumbling terminal, as though it was the poor computer's fault for their inability to locate one single human. Right now they were wandering around blind, and he recalled just how loathe he was to being blind.

Yet that wouldn't stop him. If it was Shepard, she would scour every nook and cranny, lift every rock, search every shadow for any crew member left behind.

Liara startled him with a hand on his shoulder, which jarred Garrus back to reality. He hadn't heard the sound of her footsteps, hadn't realized just how tight his fist curled at his side until just then, how his seething breaths released the pent-up fury he directed in toward himself for abandoning Shepard when she needed him most. He was her XO, her second in command, her best friend, and her lover. When she could have used him at her six, he retreated instead to the Normandy on her orders. Damn that woman and her self-sacrificial nature.

"If you wish to talk about it…" Liara said, trailing off at the end to leave the conversation open for Garrus to take charge.

He only shook his head. "I'm fine, Liara, really. I have a few choice words for our dear Commander when we find her, but I'm not going to do anything brash before then. All that matters right now is the mission."

"If you're certain... Just know that you're not alone in your suffering."

"I know, Liara."

* * *

He couldn't recall how much time passed, though he remembered watching the shifts in the shadows undergo a full rotation from when the mission began. Updates from the others clicked in over the omni-tools periodically, but otherwise the search continued with brief conversation. Joker had nothing to report, Lieutenant Cortez had no new information, Liara continued to penetrate Garrus with her all-knowing stare, and Garrus retracted further into himself. They each felt the strain: the limited provisions they carried on them were nearly depleted, sleep deprivation made them privy to petty arguments, and the whisper of hopelessness that whistled in their ears lowered morale.

Then Liara's omni-tool sputtered to life and Joker's voice sounded through in a tone Garrus couldn't quite identify. Was it…excitement?

"Liara, I'm picking up life readings about five klicks east of your position. They're faint, and at first I thought maybe the vital readings were glitching, since there were times it dropped your readings off the grid, but these seem to be pretty consistent."

"By the goddess…Joker, are you sure?" Liara asked, looking to Garrus, hopeful. Garrus didn't return the hope.

"Yeah. If you want, I can fly overhead and see what it is. I'm on the opposite end of the Citadel though, so it'll take me a few minutes to backtrack. Or I could patch Cortez to your location and have him take a look, but at this rate you'd probably just get there at the same time."

"No, keep your course. We wouldn't want to waste your time flying over here if it happens to be nothing. Garrus and I can check it out." She looked to him for confirmation, which he provided in a curt nod. They could cover the distance easily, faster if they ran.

"Alright, suit yourself. I'll update your navpoints with the reading's source. Good luck out there."

Five klicks to the east. Garrus recalled that the human military used that as their form of measurement for distance, which was one term that sort of integrated itself into the standard vocabulary of all the interspecies military. Although he still didn't know just what exactly a "klick" was. He just knew the distance wasn't too vast from the dot that pulsed where Joker indicated the life signs originated.

"Let's go," Garrus said, aware that his dual-toned voice betrayed the slightest smidge of hope, which Liara undoubtedly caught and smiled at.

He led them along the most direct path to the signal, relying on Liara's biotics to move any towering debris that blocked their path. What started out as a brisk walk soon developed into a frenzied dash. If Shepard was alive…. Garrus' mandibles flared, caught the air in a tunnel that would feed oxygen to his starving lungs. His muscled legs propelled him forward. Inhale. Exhale. This was it. If they didn't find Shepard now, they would need to suspend the search until they gathered more provisions, which would take who knew how long, since the Normandy was still an Alliance vessel. Likely eons, maybe longer.

No, this signal needed to be Shepard; he willed it to be Shepard. Call him pathetic, but other than Tali, Liara, and hell maybe even Wrex, none of the others knew him like Shepard did. None of them suffered through his past as she suffered it with him. Despite all of her own personal dilemmas; despite the hopes, dreams, and wishes the galaxy piled onto her shoulders; despite the waking nightmares and constant hauntings of all the dead she failed to save, she made time for him. For all of them. She took the time to listen to everything they had to say, sort through their problems for them, hold his quivering hand at the lack of news from his family, spend the countless hours she should have used to sleep instead to listen to him rant and rave about his incompetency as a Reaper advisor; in hindsight it all seemed so inconsequential. He pitied himself far less for it than he regretted not listening more to her problems, to aid in shouldering some of her weight. The little he had carried had been such a heavy burden, but that magnified easily by a hundred fold – if not higher – was what she bore.

Garrus had slipped so far into his thoughts he almost missed the sudden drop off and sloped angle of the rubble farther down. The vast crater spanned for leagues along the collapsed roadway. Everything in the surrounding area had been demolished, like it was the epicenter of some massive explosion, and Garrus felt the faintest chill slither up his spine. Even a varren would skitter clear of this crater, of that Garrus felt certain. Good thing for him then that he wasn't a varren. Pulling up his display on his omni-tool, he squinted carefully at the map, then at the crater, back to the map, and once more return to the crater. There was no doubt about it:

The signal originated from here.

Garrus swept his gaze over the endless horizon of rubble and debris, scanning for anything that would catch his eye: the metallic glint of Shepard's dog tags, the red stripe running down her N7 armor, the smooth and pale skin of human flesh, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Nothing caught his eye. Liara jogged up to him just as a low hiss rumbled deep in his chest.

They were here – _here_ – at the source of the signal, so why the _hell_ couldn't he find her?

Garrus closed his eyes and focused on the whistle of air as he took in a deep breath, his talons scratching at his forehead. Shepard used to comment on how brash he was, how quickly he jumped to his emotional backdrop and brood in times of increased stress. He was a hot-headed turian when he needed to remain cool and collected. Similar to now. He never understood how she did it, how methodical she could remain about everything, how emotionally detached and yet sympathetic she could behave toward any given person, human or alien. He rebuked himself for his quick-to-spark irritation just as Shepard would have. Then he reopened his eyes for round two.

There.

It lasted a millisecond, just a slight glint in the distance amidst a throne of rubble, but it was all Garrus really needed. Still, just to be sure, he unhooked the Black Widow X – a gift from Shepard he recalled with a dull ache beneath all that armored plating – from its holster on his back and peered through the scope, zooming in on the glint he saw previously. He could read the insignia on the dog tags as clearly as if they were dangling directly in front of his face: N7. The air exploded from his lungs, much like he imagined it would if a Krogan ever rammed him in the chest. When had he started holding his breath in anticipation?

Garrus lowered the scope. Debris blocked Shepard's face from view, but he recognized that signature chest plate anywhere. They found her…Spirits, they found her. He felt…well, not how he thought he would. The relief he anticipated feeling with the discovery of her body held together worse than wet paper, and a thresher maw of emotions slammed into him simultaneously. She was so close, just within reach but still leagues away. He felt the uncertainty return with a vengeance, followed closely by its comrades desperation and anger. They needed to reach her; he needed to see for himself just how badly marred she'd become; he needed some sort of confirmation that this wasn't his fault, that his desertion hadn't resulted in her death.

_Damn it, Shepard. You're turning me into a wreck._

"We need to get down there," he stated out loud, more as a tactical necessity than an indirect request to Liara as he snapped the sniper rifle onto his back.

She picked up on the subtle request anyway. "I could use biotics to lessen our impact if you feel we would cover more distance cutting across the crater rather than circling around for a gentler path."

"I don't think there is a gentler path," Garrus noted.

As he watched Liara scan the circumference of the crater with her intense stare, he couldn't help the surge of gratitude he felt for her presence. None of the others would have remained silent as she had throughout this hell of a mission, not in the same respect at least. He suspected the others had a hand in this pairing, too, each of them looking out for his well-being through Liara. If not for that, she may have wished to travel with Javik, interrogate him on his past and Prothean culture some more, but she chose to accompany him instead. They'd not only been blind in their search for Shepard, but he'd also been blind to the Normandy crew's support. He made a mental note to thank Liara later when all of this was said and done.

"No, I suppose there isn't," Liara conceded. "We'll have to proceed down the cliff-side."

"Just try not to miscalculate the distance between me and the ground. I'd hate to wind up as a blue smear on the Citadel's floor."

"If you distrust my ability to lower you safely to the ground then…." In a spark of sudden revelation, Liara turned to Garrus and crossed her arms. "Oh, I see now. You were emerging from your brooding shell and making a joke at my expense."

"Anything for you, Liara."

Liara shook her head, and before Garrus could throw another wisecrack he saw her vanish over the cliff's edge. Alone again, Garrus retracted once more into his darker mood, his thoughts trailing back to Shepard with renewed unease. They may have found her, but there were still too many unanswered questions, too many loose ends. Just what exactly would they find when they approached her? He'd been so eager to find her earlier he hadn't even stopped to consider what he would do once he had. It disconcerted him. Yet before he had a chance to tackle that particular void, Liara craned her neck up toward him and signaled for him to jump.

* * *

Her body was in close visual range now, unmoving…silent. A red haze pulsed behind Garrus' eyes the closer he drew to her, once again from the breath hitched inside his chest. Liara hovered far behind him radioing Joker, but what exactly she said didn't penetrate the pulsing of Garrus' heart in his ears. He first came upon her greaves; half buried in rubble one leg was certainly fractured, if not broken. The armor misshapen in several areas, surely it would induce pain if its wearer could feel it.

It was…gruesome. The wounds from where the armor had peeled away completely were crusted over with blood, cauterized wounds that would have been the cause of her death had they continued to bleed. Her arms, the armor stripped completely from them, were covered in gashes, bruises, and blood from the other wounds on her body she had tried to cover. One arm bent at an awkward angle, wedged between a rock and the ground. He trailed his eyes upward, though a part of him screamed to cover his gaze with his talons so he didn't have to see the condition of her once smooth face.

No, he had to confirm. He had to…

Her eyes were closed, like she was asleep, strands of disheveled hair covering her face in a shroud. Garrus knelt down before her, choking on words he prepared himself to say, the chastising he wanted to give her for tugging around his heart endlessly. He reached forward with a single talon and traced the line of one of her most recent gashes. His head dropped.

Now more than ever he understood why humans had developed tear ducts, and never before did he envy them so much for it.

"Damn it, Shepard."

From nearby he heard Joker begin asking the question to which everyone already knew the answer: "Is she…?"

Garrus' head jerked up, for he perceived a faint sound so soft he thought it was his imagination. But there it was again, a high-pitched whistle that blew past Shepard's parted lips. He leaned his head in close, his hands shaking with skepticism and disbelief. A few knuckles found their way to the side of her cheek, where he felt warmth in place of what he could have sworn was only cold. Another sputtering breath, but she was having difficulty….

Garrus looked down to her chest where part of the Rosenkov armor had collapsed into itself, and he wondered if that was what was impeding her ability to inhale. According to what little he knew of human physiology, it was. Knowing that Shepard always wore a protective layer of neoprene beneath her armor, he began tearing away at the chest plate. Frantic, he looked to Liara while the armor peeled away like Klixen shells under his sharp claws.

"She's alive. Liara, Shepard's alive," Garrus said in a choking voice thick with relief.

"Goddess…" Liara gasped, her arm falling to her side in a brief lapse of control. Knowing they needed to move quickly, she re-established the comm link with Joker and said, "Joker, we need an emergency evac. Shepard's alive. Weak, but alive. I'm patching you our exact coordinates now."

Just beyond the comm link, Garrus heard Joker utter, "Christ. On our way now."

"C'mon, Shepard, you've held out this long. Keep fighting until we get you help," Garrus pleaded.

With the Resenkov chest plate removed, Shepard gasped in air until her lungs filled with precious oxygen, much to Garrus' relief. It still whistled, she still wheezed, but at least she could breathe now.

"Liara, help me get this debris off of her!" Garrus called to his asari friend.

He turned back to Shepard for just a brief moment to rest his forehead against hers, whereupon his hand instinctively closed around hers in a gentle display of affection. He had thought… He'd been dreading… Spirits, she _had_ to be the luckiest person in the history of humanity, no question about it. She subverted his expectations once again, done the impossible by activating Project Crucible, destroyed the Reapers, and still managed to survive. Damn the Void; it wouldn't snatch her away from him this day. He would make sure of it.

Only when his shuddered breaths calmed did Garrus remove his forehead from hers and stand to help Liara with the remaining debris.


	2. Elegy for the Living

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter~ They always excite me (I bounce off the walls for days) and remind me who it is I write for when I start to forget. There's a particular scene I'm curious to know about from the readers' perspective, but I wonder if anyone will pick up on what scene that is? I don't normally admit things like this, but it still impacts me a great deal to read it. As always, provide your thoughts; I'd love to read them~

Oh, and chances are I'll end up going through the first chapter and editing pieces of it at some point. I always notice little things here and there AFTER I post a chapter that I know could flow better (go figure right?) regardless of how many times I've read it in a word document.

And one more thing; updates after this chapter will not occur for a while. I'll do my best, but this fic is…delicate. But once it reaches a certain point, expect a new chapter per week. Edits are likely to take place at some point because that's how I roll.

**Disclaimer:** Must I really admit that which I'd rather not?

Elegy for the Living

The Normandy was a silver bird that cut across the sky and landed with grace next to Liara's and Garrus' hunched figures. No sooner than it touched ground did a slit in its belly unleash chaos upon the Citadel. Dr. Karin Chakwas was in the process of pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves when the horizon opened up before her, and she caught an eyeful of Shepard's injuries first hand. The other crew members tittered nervously behind her – they weren't used to seeing their commander in this condition, so for many of them it was an eye opener – but she had already boxed away her emotions so she could approach Commander Shepard objectively like any other patient.

Liara and Garrus stood, and the doctor waved them out of the way so she could study the Commander's condition. They'd already scrounged together a makeshift splint for the Commander's shattered arm and leg in addition to removing the chest armor to make it easier for her to breathe, but she was still gasping desperately for air. No doubt about it, the Commander had a tension pneumothorax that needed relieving immediately, lest she die before Chakwas could transport her to the med bay. When she knelt to check for a pulse, she found that it barely existed, and if it wasn't for the cybernetic implants that boosted Shepard's respiration, hematopoiesis, and circulation, the Commander would not have lasted the week it took them to fix the Normandy and arrive at the Citadel.

"Traynor, hold the gurney steady next to the Commander," Chakwas ordered. "Liara, I need you to use your biotics to lift her off the ground and onto the gurney. Take care not to jar her injuries though; we don't have much time. Garrus," Chakwas leveled a stern gaze on the stubborn turian and stepped toward him in a dare to say otherwise, "I need you to leave the area." When he tried to interrupt her, she lifted a hand to silence him. "I sympathize with you, but right now you are a liability, a distraction. Next to the Commander's side is the worst place for you to be."

Garrus shook his head, and she saw him glance from her frigid glare to the withered figure that could hardly be called human. She had a word or two to give the thick-skulled fool, but seeing as how Liara had just finished transferring the Commander over to the gurney Chakwas knew that now wasn't the time. She turned back to her patient with a silent vow to chastise the insubordinate turian later and set to work on discovering where the misplaced fluid and or blood, the pneumothorax, was in Shepard's lungs, meanwhile whispering to Liara, "Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"I heard that," Garrus growled, the warble in his unsteady voice betraying the nerves he tried so hard to hide. Chakwas was a doctor and an excellent judge of character; he could not disguise his uncertainties from her.

"And you'll do well to abide by it," she warned along with a glare that told him to _back off_.

A screen flared to life above her arm along with a minuscule keyboard that allowed her to activate the different specs of her omni-tool with just a few button presses. Holding her hand palm-down over Shepard's chest, Chakwas pressed a key in the center and watched the miniature x-ray take live footage of the Commander's internal structure. Areas lined with synthetics appeared as white streaks on the x-ray, but it was the dark pocket that she found and that she had been specifically searching for that snared her interest. Her forefinger and middle finger on the Commander's wrist counted a severe drop in blood pressure, so if she didn't act immediately, they would lose her. Now was hardly the time for modesty.

"Traynor, take the shears from my supply kit and cut along the neoprene until it peels away," Chakwas decreed while she prepared a sanitized needle to relieve the pressure in the Commander's lungs.

The x-ray had a steady lock on the pneumothorax now, so that as soon as Traynor succeeded in removing the thin layer of material Chakwas wasted no time with inserting the needle in between her patient's fourth and fifth rib. She could focus on pumping the Commander full of pain meds later, but the fluid impeding her ability to breathe took priority. It helped that she was unconscious and wouldn't feel the pain of the needle anyway. If anything, the expelling of the fluid would more than likely lessen the agony and allow her to rest a smidge easier.

The catheter filled with blood, much to Chakwas' relief as she saw the shaded area on the x-ray shrivel until it became nonexistent. Setting the needle aside, she grabbed the plastic tubing so she could perform tracheal intubation and hopefully provide the Commander with some breath support. She noticed that her patient's condition had already improved, but it wasn't time for celebration. After a few more button combinations on her omni-tool, a pulse flared to life on the screen. Steady but weak and still dangerously close to flat-lining. Almost a death toll in that regard, but it was what they had, and at least it was _something_. Tracheal intubation wasn't difficult, so once she got the tube and pump set up, she showed Traynor how to facilitate the ventilation before entrusting it to the comm specialist. She'd make a doctor out of the terrified girl yet.

Now to take care of that wound in the Commander's side. Medi-gel was in heavy demand, and the rations that Chakwas had previously went to Garrus and Tali after Harbinger decided to roast them. She had a bit of her reserves left, but not enough to coat Shepard's wounds. At least she could rub some of the salve on the most life-threatening exterior injuries. Dipping a couple fingers into the cool gel, Chakwas just began to apply it when she heard a familiar earth-shattering rumble in the air above her. She jerked her head up just as the Kodiak dove in from the sky above.

It clunked to the ground, kicked up a plume of dust that shrouded it momentarily until the doors opened and the occupants stepped out in excited chatter. Then they were free of the debris, and one-by-one Tali, Kaidan, Javik, and James fell into the vice of silence. The steady on-screen pulse was the only sound that pervaded the atmosphere, a gentle beat that showed the Commander's fight for survival.

And just like that, the rhythmic beats faded into the monotone drone of the flat-line, which knocked the breath from Chakwas and the others. Her head whipped around to the screen with the life readings, flashes of critical organ failure blaring up at her from the diagnostics. The others stood frozen in time, that was until the slightest whimper harmonized the air around them. Then Chakwas broke from her stupor and dove into her bag for another container of medi-gel, a concoction made specifically with nanotechnology to act as defibrillators at the slightest charge. Her mind numb, Chakwas rubbed the green salve just above the Commander's diaphragm located directly below the heart. The most terrible wail of agony shattered the air around them, a horrifying dissonance that made Chakwas' heart ache with sympathy, a sound she'd heard only rumors of when she studied turian biology, the broken whines equivalent to human sobs that were a symbol of mourning for turians when they lost their mates. Chakwas finished with the first application of the gel. The others burst into motion in her peripheral vision. Liara stepped forward to intercept Garrus and placed firm yet sympathetic hands on his arms, but nothing the asari could do would comfort the distraught turian. Chakwas finished with the second application of the medi-gel on the shoulder opposite of Shepard's heart and turned to her omni-tool for the third part of the process.

"Garrus, no!" Liara called, the strain in her voice informing Chakwas that he pushed past her and was marching toward the gurney.

A larger body moved in between Garrus and the gurney, casting a long shadow over the doctor and her patient, but Chakwas blocked the figure out. There was no time; she had to concentrate on her job. They had approximately a minute and a half before they permanently lost Shepard, and that was something she _had_ to prevent. Chakwas held the omni-tool over the medi-gel defibrillators and yelled, "Clear!" before an electrical pulse activated the nanomachines. Shepard's body jerked, sagged back down into the gurney without a sign of revitalization. The sound of two strong bodies crashing into one another in a scuffle sounded nearby, but she had already pinpointed her focus on Shepard. Increase the electrical charge, hold the omni-tool steady over the Commander's body once more, and "Clear!" The Commander's body writhed again and settled into silence.

Nearby James swept Garrus' feet out from underneath him and held the turian pinned to the ground. The Commander's squad mates moved around them, prepared to intervene if Garrus insisted on fighting or if James threatened to harm the heartbroken turian. The latter only held him with a forearm against his neck and grunted as Garrus thrashed about in an attempt to break free.

"Look, Scars," James demanded in a strained voice, "I care about Lola as much as the next guy, but you've gotta get your head on straight. You're not the only one suffering here, and I know Lola would hate to see you like this, too."

"Clear!" Chakwas called again after vamping the charge up for a third time…the final time.

Commander Shepard's body arched, held suspended in time while Chakwas waited for that defining moment that would determine success from failure. Traynor stood at the head of the gurney, her doe eyes wide with disbelief, her breath caught in her throat, and together the two watched in understood silence. Finally Shepard's body collapsed on the gurney, and Chakwas found her eyes snapping to the screen of her omni-tool, straining to hear a tone other than the terrible drone of death.

Chakwas' clenched knuckles faded white, but seconds like sand trickled through her fingers into a pit of hopeless failure. She could feel the stares of the others, the atmosphere holding its breath in mixed anxiety, desperate will, and devastating loss. Just when it became suffocating, she saw the screen flicker, and a pulse flicked across it. No later than this occurred did Shepard draw in a sharp gasp, and Chakwas likewise exhaled in shuddered relief. She jerked her head in a nod at Traynor and resumed plastering medi-gel onto the deepest wounds. She would need proper grafts and synthetic replacements later, but for now they needed to uplift her into stable condition, otherwise they risked another flat-line. To do that, she needed to insert a hypodermic needle through the Commander's epidermis, which she hooked to the bag of saline solution hanging from the attached stand on the gurney. This would not only hydrate Shepard but provide her with vital nutrients.

Then and only then could they direct her into the med bay. Chakwas just finished completing her setup when James scrambled off Garrus, who had ceased struggling. The doctor cast the unstable turian a weary glance as though asking if he was going to try and pull another idiotic stunt. Garrus hissed under his breath, the equivalent of a human's defiant snort, and detached himself from the rest of the group to approach Shepard. Chakwas caught his eye and nodded her permission, which Garrus replied by taking Shepard's fragile hand in his own.

"The rest of you huddle around. I don't want the rest of the crew crowding the Commander and providing unnecessary stress. Once we reach the med bay, all of you" and she looked to Garrus as she said this to include him amongst the others "are to remain elsewhere. _No one_ will interrupt my work." Then to James she said, "James, if you'll push the gurney, please."

"Sure thing, ma'am."

She handed her bag of tools to Traynor who took them without a word and then held her hand over Shepard once more. Another camera similar to the x-ray displayed the synthetic framework holding the Commander's body together. Any dark splotch she located she marked, the list of materials they'd need expanding in her head for every split wire, severed nerve, and smashed bone in Shepard's body. She had neither the equipment nor the staff needed to rebuilding the Commander, which led her to the conclusion that they would need to locate a hospital with an able-bodied team of specialists in order to have a chance at saving her.

Aboard the Normandy, worried chatter electrified the concerned crew members, many of whom circled around the gurney but didn't press too close. They just wanted confirmation that Commander Shepard survived, that they wouldn't need to prepare their funeral attire anytime in the near future. Oh, she was alive alright, Chakwas replied mentally. Had they arrived a moment later, the people alongside the gurney now would be the ones carrying the casket to its permanent residence six feet under, the Alliance flag folded neatly over a dark cherry casket. Thousands would circle the gravesite: krogan, asari, turians, humans, maybe even a few salarians. A vast shadow there for a single purpose, all with their heads bowed in respect for the one who saved their homes. Admiral Hackett would stand on a pedestal overlooking the coffin, dressed in neat military garb appropriate for the funeral, his hat removed for the occasion, and he would speak. His voice would encompass every square mile of the cemetery, and it would cradle the sorrow heavy in everyone's hearts, the perfect eulogy that would last at least an hour yet be remembered for an eternity. All eyes would be trained on the Admiral; the humans that were part of the Normandy's crew would support each other as tears streak down their faces and sobs heaved their chests. Chakwas would stand with her arms clasped in front of her, eyes glazed over so that pain couldn't invade her heart. Thoughts would swirl around in her head: that it was her fault for not saving the Commander in time, that she should have tried harder, that not even a doctor's expertise could cure death. A hand would press gently on her forearm, and she would turn to look at the person only to get pulled into a tight embrace instead, and that would be the end of her. Tears that she would try to withhold would slip down her cheeks, and shudders would rack her body, and she would return the hug, thankful for the other's presence. The Admiral's voice would resonate in the hearts and minds of all those present, and he would end his commendation with a thought-provoking image about the Commander, upon which military personnel would fire their rifles into the sky in perfect synchronization while the casket would sink into the ground. Garrus would be standing nearby with Liara and Tali hovering close, his claws clamped on the flag that normally would have been given to the deceased officer's family. He would be her closest family.

The elevator doors snapping shut in front of her face snatched Chakwas away from that future she envisioned. Thankful for her strong demeanor, she exhaled and distracted her mind by returning to the here and now rather than the countless possible outcomes. If Chakwas had _any_ influence on Shepard's fate, she'd fight tooth and nail to see that the Commander lived to see another day, to see her return to the people she protected with every fiber of her being. Not just Garrus and her other squad mates but also the people of Earth, of Palaven, of Rannoch, and of Thessia. If there was anyone who deserved happiness, it was the Commander, and watching the once divided galaxy come together to rebuild would fill her with greater joy than even seeing Garrus because she would know they had succeeded.

The elevator doors opened onto the third level, and Chakwas studied the images on her omni-tool to isolate the most severe damage. The others continued to hover around the gurney up until the med bay doors, where they halted and eyed Chakwas with the same curious gazes, the same question running amidst all of their heads. Only Garrus stood by the gurney still, his hand wrapped around Shepard's, his reluctance to leave palpable.

"I know you're all curious about whether or not the Commander will make it, and the only answer I can provide you with is that the next forty-eight hours are going to be the most challenging. Her condition has stabilized for now, but for how long that lasts I cannot say. We need to fly her to a hospital, and I can only pray that the people on Earth have managed to erect some decent establishments in the week that has passed between our crash landing and our operation on the Citadel. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do, and I mean it when I say that none of you are to enter the med bay until I grant you permission."

She shot Garrus another warning glance before taking the bag that Traynor handed her. A hand on the med bay doors opened them, and soon Chakwas was pulling the hovering gurney into the sanitized room where she could perform proper surgery until they reached a worthy institution on Earth. The doors wheezed shut before her, whereupon she keyed in a code to lock them. Then she drew the blinds so that no outside force could observe her, and when she accomplished this, she finished pulling Shepard to one of the operating tables, where the platform on the gurney slipped right from one surface to the next.

"Jeff, set a course for Earth and contact Admiral Hackett if you can. See if you can locate a hospital with enough tech to suit the needs of our Commander," Chakwas said aloud, her suspicions that Joker'd been eavesdropping on her confirmed when he coughed.

"Sure thing, Doc. Can I get you anything else while I'm at it? A bottle of brandy, a nice hot meal -"

"How about some silence?" Chakwas quipped, her voice harsher than she intended, though she was by far finished with jokes for the time being.

"Oh, uh, okay. Silence coming right up then," Joker said before the comm channel dropped into stillness.

Chakwas removed the nitrile gloves used in fieldwork and slipped into surgical scrubs so as to prevent outside contamination during the grafting procedure. Only then did she remove the remaining armor from the Commander's body, including the crude splints Liara and Garrus crafted. She replaced the clothing with a sheet and washed her hands in sanitizing liquid before pulling on another set of gloves. Attaching a bag to the stand next to the life support system, Chakwas set up the necessary components to provide Shepard with a blood transfusion, which she hoped would elevate the Commander's blood pressure long enough for them to get her to a hospital and so that she could perform surgery with less risk of her patient flat-lining again. With her workstation complete, she proceeded to the surgical stage of the process and lost herself to concentration as she did so.

Fifteen minutes became half an hour, which soon gave way to an hour when the comm link flared to life again.

"Doctor Chakwas, we're coming upon Vancouver Military Hospital. ETA is five minutes and counting. The Reapers decimated the area during their attack, but Admiral Hackett said that the people set to rebuilding the hospital as soon as the Commander succeeded in killing the Reapers so that refugees and any of the injured could receive free medical care. It's your best bet for the Commander," Joker announced over the med bay intercom.

"Thank you, Joker," she replied in a much calmer mood than she'd been in previously. "If you could send James Vega up here, I'll need him to assist me."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chakwas rubbed her forearm across her forehead and blinked back the fog in her vision from prolonged concentration. She would just finish this last stitch and then unlock the doors for James to take control of the gurney. A couple minutes later and she finished suturing a rather large gash along the Commander's side. Cutting the thread, Chakwas set the needle down on her surgical tray and moved to the door while removing her gloves. A quick code entered into the keypad unlocked the doors, and they slid open to reveal James on the other side waiting patiently for the doctor to emerge.

"You called for me, ma'am?"

"Yes, I need your aid in pushing the Commander off the ship and into the hospital. I believe she's going to make it, but only if the hospital has what we need."

"There's a sliver of good news."

Chakwas nodded absent-mindedly as she walked over to the Commander. She hadn't really considered that, how even a smidge of good news was still good news regardless of how shaky the foundation was upon which it stood. The next two days would provide the real test, but Chakwas knew that if anyone could survive the forty-eight hour hell awaiting her, it would be Commander Shepard, Alliance Military, Council Spectre, Reaper Executioner, and Savior of the Galaxy. Shepard would survive; Chakwas would make sure of that.


End file.
